


Of Cufflinks and Kittens

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 10:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20704313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: It’s 1960, and Napoleon finds out that it’s his new partner’s birthday–and, naturally, he has to do something about it.  Takes place in the first year of the partnership.





	Of Cufflinks and Kittens

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short piece I wrote on the occasion of David McCallum’s 86th birthday today.

Napoleon had endeavored to make his partner feel at home; though they had only known each other about seven months, the number of cases they had accomplished together, including making great progress on the Baron of THRUSH case.

But Napoleon had noticed that, according to Illya’s official file, his birthday was coming up. The Russian hadn’t mentioned this at all—Napoleon presumed that he didn’t want to make a big fuss out of it, but as his partner, Napoleon wanted to give him a present so he would know how much he was appreciated.

He procured a set of silver cufflinks, monogrammed, and then debated over how to present them. After much deliberation, he used the spare key to Illya’s apartment and attached them to the ring of the identity disc on the collar of Baba Yaga, the Egyptian Mau kitten that Illya had adopted a few weeks back.

“Not too heavy, is it, my dear?” he asked the kitten.

She meowed loudly, and then proceeded to claw her way up the cat tree unencumbered by the cufflinks.

“I’ll take that as a good sign,” Napoleon said

Napoleon then left a note inviting Illya to a home-cooked gourmet meal in Napoleon’s apartment to celebrate his birthday; he left to go work on said meal as Baba Yaga continued to explore the confines of her cat tree.

With food involved, Illya was guaranteed to show up, and, sure enough, once he had finished with the paperwork he had been staying behind to complete, he had returned to his apartment, picked up Baba Yaga, and went next door to Napoleon’s place.

Napoleon grinned as Illya entered, cradling the kitten.

“So, what did you think?”

“Well, I have not eaten yet—I shall have to reserve judgment until I do. But it smells wonderful—doesn’t it, Baba Yaga?”

The kitten meowed loudly, her nose twitching at the wonderous smells that filled the apartment. She knew by now that if she looked cute and mewed, both of these two seasoned spies would not be able to resist slipping her food. Not even Napoleon, who had been able to resist all known forms of THRUSH hypnosis, could refuse her. And as for Illya, who was normally stoic and unmoved by the shallow pleas of THRUSHies, would melt by the end of one drawn-out mew.

Napoleon seemed slightly surprised; the cufflinks were still on Baba Yaga’s tag—had Illya been too preoccupied to notice them?

Napoleon soon pushed this aside served the dinner, and they all sat down to eat—the humans at the table and the kitten on her own little stool beside them, gleefully accepting whatever she could beg.

Throughout the meal, Napoleon brought Baba Yaga into the conversation, particularly trying to draw attention to her collar and tag; Illya would inevitably get distracted and coo over the kitten, praising her for how she attacked a piece of fish or batted at a piece of silverware on the edge of the table.

By the end of the evening, Napoleon was fighting the urge to facepalm and just forget the whole thing and tell Illya; it was just about as he was going to say something that Illya finally started laughing.

“What…?” Napoleon asked.

“Did you think I did not notice the cufflinks?”

“Well… Yes.”

“I knew you were trying to give me a gift; I was merely trying to get the absolute maximum enjoyment I could out of it. And why should I not—it is my birthday.” He paused. “…It is the first birthday I have celebrated in a long time, actually. First by circumstance, and then eventually by choice.” He smiled at Napoleon. “Thank you for making this the first enjoyable birthday I have had in nearly two decades.”

“I’m glad I could make it enjoyable for you,” Napoleon said, removing the cufflinks from Baba Yaga’s collar tag and handing them to his partner.

“…You know you did not have to—”

“I know.”

“…These are _silver_!”

“There’s nothing wrong with having nice things. But just forget that they’re silver. See them as a gift from your partner,” Napoleon said, and he smiled. “Happy Birthday, Illya.”

And Illya managed a smile back.

“Thank you, Napoleon.”

It had been a few small gestures—but for Illya, they had meant something quite immeasurable.


End file.
